


A Lost Memory

by Lorde_Shadowz



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Loneliness, Mirror of Erised
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-08
Updated: 2020-06-08
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:00:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24608830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lorde_Shadowz/pseuds/Lorde_Shadowz
Summary: Set in first year. Harry goes to the Mirror of Erised again, after hours. But this time he is not the only one there.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 15





	A Lost Memory

Harry couldn't help himself. He knew that he should spend some more time with Ron, or get homework done, or sleep, but all he could think of was the mirror, waiting for him in an abandoned classroom. Waiting to show him his family.

Slowly, being careful not to seem anxious, he pulled on his pajamas, telling a surprised Seamus that he had a headache and was going to go to bed early, and to tell Ron not to wait up for him. Then he pulled the curtains around his bed closed and lay down, making sure to keep his eyes open so that he wouldn't actually fall asleep. His dorm mates slowly began to filter back in with their usual light chatter, and he had to indure another hour of quiet talking and Exploding Snap before Percy came in to tell everyone that it was lights out, and the other boys settled down, although not without giving Ron some good-natured ribbing about his brother being a prefect. Shortly after that, there was no sound except Ron's loud snoring and the running water in the bathroom, where Dean was brushing his teeth.

Harry waited as long as he was able. After Dean came back and got into bed, Harry sat up in bed, disentangling his legs from the bed clothes, and pulled the curtains open again, halting at every tiny noise. When no one woke up, he got out of bed, wincing at the coldness of the stone floor, and bumbled around in the dark looking for his trunk. Eventually he barked his shin on it. After rubbing the offending appendage and muttering something Professor Mcgonagall would probably have taken points for, he unlatched the trunk and rummaged through it until his fingers slipped upon the cool, slippery silver fabric of his invisibility cloak, wrapped around his DADA textbook. He pulled it free, shaking out a few droobles wrappers, and carefully adjusted it around himself. Then he pulled the hood over his head and crept out the door, down the winding mahogany staircase. It was time.

Harry could scarcely keep himself from breaking into a run before he'd even left the Common Room. As soon as the portrait clicked shut behind him, he was running, only slowing down when he approached the classroom where the Mirror of Erised resided; he didn't want to miss it by mistaking one suit of armor for another. This was too important.

Despite the fact that he had been here before, he almost missed the door in his fervor, and had to backtrack, looking for it. And then, at last, he found the room. Unfortunately, he was not the only one.

Harry was almost halfway across the room when he realized that he was not alone; a figure dressed entirely in black was standing before the mirror in silence, staring into its depths. It was Professor Snape.

Harry's first reaction was overwhelming curiosity. What was Snape seeing in the mirror? What did the unpleasant Potions Master want that much?

Overcome by curiosity, Harry approached in silence until he was only a few feet from the man, but as with Ron, when Harry looked at the mirror, he saw only his own fantasy, his parents, standing around him protectively, while further on, aunts and uncles and grandparents gathered, all of them supporting him. Harry continued to approach. Even though he was disappointed, he still wanted to look in the mirror; that was, after all, what he had come for.

"Lily."

Harry jumped, abruptly jerked out of his thoughts at the word. It was not more than a whisper, the intonation was enough. Snape's long, potion stained fingers reached out as though to touch whatever he saw in the enchanted glass, and Harry, glancing at his profile, saw with a start that his dark eyes were glossy with unshed tears. "Lily," he said again, and Harry shivered at the pain in his normally malicious or emotionless voice. "I'm sorry, please understand..."

He might have gone on, but at that moment there was a scuffling in the hall outside, and Snape abruptly straightened, all traces of the hungry longing that had swept over his face vanishing under a blank mask. In another moment, his habitual sneer had taken up residence on his face again and he swept towards the door, robes billowing. Straight into Harry.

For a moment, both of them froze in pure shock, the one because he realized his predicament, and the other because he had just come into contact with an invisible body. Professor Snape was the first to react, as he yanked the slippery fabric off out from around the Gryffindor, Harry squeaking in shock and fear as he became visible.

The Potions Professor was not pleased.

"What, exactly, are you doing here?" He snarled, spit flying with every word. His black eyes glittered dangerously in the half light. Harry took a step back, only to be grabbed harshly by the shoulders. "Can I not go anywhere without you disturbing me?"

Harry shook in his grip, eyes wide. The pressure on his shoulder blades was starting to hurt.

"Have you come to spy on me? Is it not funny to see me in pain?"

Harry closed his eyes, wishing he was back in his dorm, that he'd never gone out. Or perhaps that he'd had the sense to leave while he could. Snape looked almost mad, and Harry had had to deal with an infuriated Vernon Dursley enough to be afraid. Unbidden, his throat closed up, green eyes hot with overflowing tears.

Snape shook him roughly. "Answer me!"

It was at this point that the eleven year old boy totally lost control. "My mum," he whispered, voice wavering just slightly. "I ju-just wanted to see her. I didn't kn-know that you were he-here." Tears began to spill down his cheeks, and, still being gripped by the shoulders, albeit much more loosely as the professor was reeling in shock, he was unable to swipe them away. The tears increased as Harry grew more and more frustrated that his most hated professor was witnessing his breakdown, and most likely would use it as ammunition to taunt him. And without realizing what he was doing, he fisted both hands in the silky black cloth of Snape's robes and buried his face in the professor's broad chest.

Snape went totally still. The rational part of Harry's brain expected him to shove him away, perhaps with a derogatory comment, but the boy was to distraught to move, only clinging to the man as though he were a lifeline, lost in his tears. Snape's cautious embrace did not even register.

It seemed like a lifetime before Harry stopped crying. He'd never actually done so before, at least not since he was fifteen months old; neither Aunt Petunia nor her overweight husband tolerated sniveling, and when he finally stopped he did not know where he was, except that he had his face pressed against cloth that smelled of herbs and exotic spices and briny things in jars, that someone was holding him. Snape! Harry's eyes flew open and he gave a little gasp, trying to pull away, face crimson . "I...I'm s-sorry, s-sir."

There was a curious expression on Snape's face, one Harry couldn't quite read. "This changes nothing," he said at length, his tone almost conversational. "There are various parties who...expect certain behaviour from me in classes and in the halls, and it is imperative that l...appear to hate you." He sighed. "But...but know that I am not your enemy. If it comes to it, I will protect you."

Harry stared at him in confusion. "W-why?"

"I..." the Potion Master rubbed the bridge of his nose as if to give himself time to think. "I was not always a good man," he said finally, "and I must act in certain ways to deceive my old...colleagues. Simply put, I once followed the Dark Lord, before I realized how truly terrible he was."

Harry blinked. "So you were in His camp?"

A grim nod.

"What changed?"

"Your mother." Snape's voice shook ever so slightly. "I did something that got her in danger, and I changed sides to protect her. Not that it worked." His voice was harsh with self-loathing.

"My mum...?" This was quickly becoming surreal.

Snape nodded again. "We were, at one time, friends." His hold loosened. "But enough of that now. I do not want to have you sleep deprived in my class tomorrow, and you are already out after curfew." He swept languidly to his feet, helping Harry up by the scruff of his neck. "And for future reference, I will render you into potions ingredients if you ever speak of this to anyone."

Harry gulped and nodded, turning away. He did not hear the Potion Master's quiet whisper of "Obliviate."


End file.
